


(Not) Just For Show

by slythatheart



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:05:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slythatheart/pseuds/slythatheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linda moved in closer, one hand on Iris’ waist and one on her shoulder. Iris had danced closely with friends, but never this close, never this intimately, and she suddenly found herself analyzing her own movements, wondering if her hands should touch more or less, if she should keep them safely planted or let them wander just a little. Or if Linda would be able to tell that Iris’ looks of interest weren’t entirely fake.</p><p>She’d almost forgotten why they were there when Linda’s lips brushed against her ear. “I think I see her, but I’m not sure.”</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Linda and Iris pretend to be a couple at a lesbian club to investigate a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not) Just For Show

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Flarrow Femslash Week 2015 (Day #1 - Favorite Ship AND/OR Fake/Pretend Relationship AU )

“Are you sure that my clothes aren’t too,” Iris hesitated, tugging at the hem of her skirt self-consciously as she glanced around the packed club, “ _straight_ night club?”

Linda laughed, shaking her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s not really a thing. You look great. Femme and fabulous.”

Iris winced. “I’m being weird, aren’t I?”

“A little.”

She picked up her drink and took a sip, letting her eyes dart over the crowd. “It’s official. I’m the _worst_ investigative reporter.”

“Yeah, right,” Linda snorted, plucking the olive from her martini and pointing at her with it. “Iris, you’re amazing, okay? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Compliments like that from Linda always felt a little surreal to Iris. Linda had been at the paper longer and had more experience in journalism, whereas Iris still felt a little off balance, like she hadn’t quite found her feet yet despite how quickly their editor had put his trust in her.

“Thank you,” she said, touched by Linda’s words. They’d had such a rocky start to their friendship and Linda never said anything she didn’t mean, so her respect meant the world to Iris. “And not just for saying that. For coming with me tonight.”

“Are you kidding?” Linda grinned. She leaned in closer, draping her arm along the back of Iris’ seat and adding in a whisper, “I should be thanking you. Trust me; helping with an undercover assignment at the trendiest lesbian club in Central City is way more fun than my night was shaping up to be. Believe it or not, Netflix and leftover Thai food loses its appeal after a while.” She bit into her lower lip with a very convincing come-hither stare, then placed the olive between her teeth and tugged it off the toothpick with a wink.

Her movements were a subtle reminder of the part they were playing; it wasn’t enough to just be at the club if they stood out like sore thumbs. Iris took another sip of her drink, using the opportunity to scan the room again.

She shifted in her seat until she was leaning into Linda’s personal space, putting on her best flirty smile. “Well, at this rate we may have to come back again tomorrow. Mariella still hasn’t shown up.”

“I really want to be disappointed because of your article,” Linda told her, checking out the crowd subtly over Iris’ shoulder as she began to play with a lock of Iris’ hair, “but the martinis here are _amazing._ I could handle a second visit, even if this place _is_ tied to the Santini family.”

“Hold that thought.” Iris did her best not to be too obvious as she eyed the woman who had just walked in. The lighting wasn’t ideal, but she was pretty sure she’d just spotted their mark. “I think she just walked in.”

Linda made a tiny, aborted movement with her head, like she’d had to stop from turning to look for herself. “Are you sure?”

She wasn’t, not entirely. At least not for a few moments, until the tall, auburn haired woman stepped into the brighter lighting at the end of the bar. “Yep. Definitely her.”

“Should we head back to the bar for another drink? Settle in closer?”

“No point,” Iris sighed. “She’s heading for the dancefloor. She didn’t drop anything off or pick anything up, either.”

“Well, maybe her contact isn’t on staff,” Linda offered. “Your source could have gotten that wrong. Or maybe they’re not behind the bar...or not working tonight?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Iris craned her neck as much as she dared. “Can you see anything? I think I lost her.”

“From here, in that crowd? No way.”

“Right.” Iris nodded determinedly. “Brace yourself, we’re going in.” She clasped Linda’s hand and pulled her up as she stood, like she was dragging her girlfriend up for a dance. Something about the way Linda was grinning at her, eyes sparkling, made her stomach swoop pleasantly. It wasn’t the first time Linda had made her feel that way and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but it _was_ the first time they’d touched in any way beyond platonically, and that made the butterflies ten times worse.

 _It’s just for show_ , Iris reminded herself, trying to ignore the way Linda squeezed her hand as they snaked around other women on the floor until they found a spot where they could dance comfortably.

Dancing with another woman was more familiar to Iris than flirting had been; she loved dancing, was used to dancing with her friends, and she knew when she moved her hips closer to Linda’s that it would look natural to anyone paying them attention. But despite the surface familiarity, Iris’ heart was racing.

She’d never danced with a woman she’d actually been attracted to before; hell, women she’d been interested in had been so few and far between that she’d never acted on her feelings, and had dismissed the idea altogether after college.

But Linda was brave, and smart, and funny. She had the most beautiful smile and such kind eyes, and once Iris realized she was finally ready to move on from Eddie she’d noticed more and more just how amazing Linda was.

Linda moved in closer, one hand on Iris’ waist and one on her shoulder. Iris had danced closely with friends, but never this close, never this intimately, and she suddenly found herself analyzing her own movements, wondering if her hands should touch more or less, if she should keep them safely planted or let them wander just a little. Or if Linda would be able to tell that Iris’ looks of interest weren’t entirely fake.

She’d almost forgotten why they were there when Linda’s lips brushed against her ear. “I think I see her, but I’m not sure.”

“Where?”

“In the crowd behind you.”

Fighting the urge to look back over her shoulder, Iris took a long, deep breath. She could make this look natural. And hopefully, she wouldn’t be crossing any lines by taking the act further than Linda was comfortable with.

 _We should have talked about what we’re okay with_ , Iris chided herself.

Iris began to dance slower, more seductively. The music was slowing down anyway, so she moved in even closer until she could feel Linda’s curves pressing tightly against her own. “Is this okay?” she asked into Linda’s ear.

“Definitely.” There was something in the way Linda replied — maybe it was the tone of her voice, or the way she drew out the word, or the way her fingers tightened just a little on Iris’ waist, but whatever it was, it made Iris’ breath catch. 

She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the music, let herself think about what she would do if they were there on a real date instead of for a story. She turned slowly until she was facing away from Linda, her ass grinding back into Linda’s hips while her hand reached up and back to slide along Linda’s shoulder then up her neck, tangling her fingers into Linda’s hair, while Linda’s hand ran up and down Iris’ arm, fingers trailing encouragingly.

Linda’s free hand was exploring her waist, sliding across the few inches of exposed skin, occasionally dipping dangerously low. It was so easy to imagine what would come next if they were alone, to picture Linda’s fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her skirt.

Her skin tingled where Linda’s lips pressed against her neck, then a little higher, again and again until Linda nipped at her ear. “Is it her?”

_Is who—? Oh. Right._

Iris bit down a moan that was half arousal, half frustration. How had she let herself forget what they were doing, even just for a few moments? She let her eyes drift open slowly, as naturally as she could manage. She scanned the crowd in front of her casually and, trying not to let her gaze linger too long once she spotted Mariella, she nodded.

“Then I hope you don’t mind my hands all over you,” Linda said. Her lips tickled up and down the shell of Iris’ ear as she spoke, making Iris shiver, “because she looks like she’s having a blast.”

* * *

 

Seventeen songs. They had danced through _seventeen songs_.

Iris knew exactly how many because she’d been keeping track through every spin, every grind, every twist; had been telling herself _she’ll take a break soon_ for the last eight, had been wanting to drag Linda somewhere more private for — well, for all seventeen songs, if she were being honest. She’d kept her head, relatively speaking, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could.

The song playing wasn’t something Iris recognized, but it was slow, sensual. It had a deep bass that thrummed through her chest, and a sexy, sultry rhythm that Linda was mimicking with her hands, sliding them up, down and across Iris’ mostly bare back with the music. More than once those hands had brushed a little too far for their act, but not nearly far enough for what Iris wanted — fingers dipping low on the hips and thumbs brushing so close to the side of Iris’ breasts.

She peered over Linda’s shoulder through half lidded eyes, trying her best to play into Linda’s movements without getting swept away in them, watching Mariella and the woman she was dancing with as they whispered into each other’s ears and shot each other seductive grins. Then — _finally_ , Iris thought — Mariella was pulling the other woman off the dance floor.

Linda and Iris had been careful, hadn’t let more than a moment pass where at least one of them could subtly watch their mark, and yet nothing had happened. There had been no exchange of anything but flirty smiles and the occasional kiss, nothing that helped with Iris’ article and certainly nothing other than what most of the women in the club were engaging in.

“They’re taking a break,” she muttered to Linda, who pulled back with a loud laugh and a wink.

“Are you as thirsty as I am?”

“You read my mind.”

They made their way towards the bar, Linda keeping her focus Iris, touching her, grinning at her, trusting Iris to get them to where they needed to go while perfectly playing the part of someone who couldn’t tear their eyes away from their date. Before they got even close, Mariella’s date was dragging her to the exit and Iris hesitated.

“They’re leaving,” she told Linda, who glanced up just in time to see Mariella walking out the door.

“Then I guess so are we.”

“You don’t think that’s a little obvious?” Iris asked but it was too late, Linda was already heading in the direction of the door, tugging Iris along behind her.

When Iris stepped outside the first thing she saw was Mariella staring at her and she stumbled. Linda was faster on her feet though, and within moments Iris found herself with her back against the cold brick wall, arms full of Linda who was swooping in for a quick kiss.

“We should call a cab,” Linda giggled against her lips, sounding tipsy and happy enough that Iris couldn’t help but giggle back.

She opened her mouth to play along, but before she had a chance to say a word Linda leaned in again, catching her in a longer, deeper kiss.

Iris couldn’t help but moan when Linda’s tongue darted against her bottom lip, couldn’t stop the way her hands snaked around Linda to pull her impossibly closer, couldn’t fight the urge to kiss back intently.

No one had kissed her so thoroughly in such a long time, and it was so, so easy to relax into it, to let herself enjoy every curl of Linda’s tongue, every nip of her teeth, every vibration from the tiny noises they were both making. She was warm despite the faint chill in the night air, her heart was racing and she ached to explore Linda’s bare skin, to slowly slip every item of clothing from her body and trace with her fingertips, to taste with her lips and tongue.

It was over too soon, even though Iris knew somewhere in the back of her mind that they’d been kissing for a while. She felt lightheaded and Linda was gasping in front of her, like at some point they’d both stopped bothering to breathe.

After a few moments Iris’ brain came back online and she looked around quickly, shoulders sagging. “They’re gone.”

* * *

 

“Hey.”

Iris glanced up from her monitor to see Linda standing by her desk, two mugs in her hands and a sheepish expression on her face. She held one of the mugs out and Iris stood up and took it gratefully, pulling it close to her face to enjoy the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

“I was just thinking I really needed one of these. Thanks.”

“No, please don’t thank me,” Linda said, nose wrinkled adorably. “It’s meant to be an apology. And it can’t be an apology if you’re thinking of it as a favor.”

“Why would you need to apologize?” Iris asked, a little laugh slipping out at the look on Linda’s face. “I mean, if anything I should be bringing _you_ a coffee to thank you for helping me out last night.”

“Oh, you mean that investigation where my brilliant idea to keep our cover totally lost us the target?” Linda perched herself on the edge of Iris’ desk and let out a long sigh. “Forget the coffee, I need to bake you a bunch of ‘please forgive me’ pastries.”

Iris’ lip curled into a half smile against her will. Linda’s baking was _unbelievable_.

“Oh no,” she replied, ignoring the way her stomach growled at the suggestion. “I’ll freely admit your chocolate Danishes are _amazing_ , but I’ve seen you in the kitchen when you feel guilty, remember? My dad _still_ has leftovers in his freezer.”

“You can expect a batch of chocolate Danishes on your desk tomorrow, then.”

“No!” Iris laughed. “Linda, I promise, you have _nothing_ to apologize for.”

“If I hadn’t come up with that stupid idea then we might have seen where they went.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’d have realized we were following them and gotten spooked. Or pulled out a gun or something.”

“You think Santini could hide a gun under that dress?” Linda asked. She was grinning, though it looked like she was fighting it.

“Besides,” Iris continued, determined not to let Linda keep feeling guilty, “my investigative skills clearly need some polish. Barry has literally had to pull me out of the line of gunfire. If you weren’t there, they’d have spotted me the second they arrived. I must have stuck out like a sore thumb.”

Linda opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Okay, yes, they’d have noticed you,” she agreed. “But not the way you think. You’d have been fine, okay? You just looked nervous, like it was your first time at a lesbian club.”

“I was _so_ obvious, wasn’t I?” Iris groaned.

“A little, but it wouldn’t have mattered. They would have just thought you were cute, and maybe a little awkward.” Linda grinned at her. “Trust me; it was all kinds of adorable.”

Iris smiled widely at Linda, but she could feel warmth spreading across her cheeks and she hoped desperately that her blush wasn’t too obvious. She didn’t really know how to reply. Was Linda flirting? Or was she just being nice?

The silence between them went just a little too long, until it felt awkward. Linda glanced over at her desk, like she was going to walk away, but Iris found herself wanting her to stay, to keep talking past the uncertainty.

“I meant it, you know,” Iris said sincerely, placing her hand over Linda’s where it was resting on the edge of Iris’ desk. If Linda took the gesture as friendly, good. If she took it as more...maybe that could be good, too. “It was quick thinking. For all we know, you may have saved our lives. The Santini family doesn’t mess around.”

Linda stared down at Iris’ hand for just a little longer than would be natural. Iris pulled away, but she did it slowly. Iris wasn’t quite ready to just blurt out how she’d been feeling, but she didn’t want to run from it, either.

“Well, if there’s an opening on Team Flash for a heroine who saves lives by kissing beautiful women, sign me up.” Her tone was joking, but she kept steady eye contact with Iris. It seemed like she was trying to get a message across, maybe even the same message Iris was.

“Is that—?” Iris paused nervously, then scolded herself for not being braver and took a deep, fortifying breath. “Is that your way of telling me I’m beautiful?”

“Okay. I hope this doesn’t seem like it’s coming out of nowhere,” Linda said, expelling a long sigh and looking frustrated with herself, “but I’m just going to...put it out there. _Yes_ , I think you’re beautiful. And more than that, I care about you. To be honest I’ve been chasing my brain in circles trying to figure out whether you’re interested in me or not and I _still_ don’t know, so just...do you want to go out with me sometime? On a real date, not just for show?”

Iris’ heart was in her throat by the time Linda finished speaking, and she was beaming so widely her cheeks hurt. She nodded. “Yeah. I would really love that.”

“Oh, thank god,” Linda said, relief washing over her face. “Because I was trying to put together a mini speech about how I wouldn’t let my feelings make our friendship awkward if you said no, but it all sounded really clichéd.”

Iris laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with clichés, is there? Because dinner is a bit of a cliché for a first date, but we should do that.” She leaned in. “Maybe tonight?”

“Tonight’s good,” Linda answered. “You know...if we’re embracing clichés we could go dancing after. I know a place that does _excellent_ martinis.”

That not-so-subtle reminder of the night before had Iris blushing again, but she could see the faintest tint on Linda’s cheeks as well, so she didn’t mind. “That sounds great. I just have one rule.”

“And what’s that?”

“Next time you kiss me, you have to mean it.”


End file.
